Tough Enough
by obaona
Summary: A vignette on Han Solo at ten years old.


Title: Tough Enough

Summary: A little vignette on a ten year old Han Solo.

Rating: PG.

A/N: The characters in this belong to George Lucas (duh), but all of the characters besides Han in this were originally created by A. C. Crispin, in her Han Solo Trilogy. This is meant to fit in with that.

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Space was cold.

Han, however, couldn't quite understand why the ship couldn't be warmer. Logically, no matter what, a ship with sentient, humanoid beings will need a certain amount of energy to get heat. And in the utter cold of space, and the searing heat of the stars, he didn't see what big difference it made in energy that it had to be twenty degrees colder than comfortable, and the rest of the ship. It didn't take _that_ much energy.

Of course, Shrike could have deliberately made this hold colder than the other holds, or the rest of the ship. But he rather doubted that Shrike, the mean dump of Hutt poodoo, would ever bother that much with a ten year old Han Solo. He rather suspected he was more of an amusing distraction for the human smuggler captain. He didn't like that idea at all. Shrike was known for his temper – someday he might get tired of Han.

Regardless, that still left the question of why it was colder here than the rest of the ship.  Damn convenient, too, that the heat converter was apparently not working, or that someone had decided _not_ to fix it – on Shrike's dear ship. And that Shrike had known about it, and decided that throwing Han into a hold was a good punishment for his daring.

He would wondered if Shrike thought this kind of treatment would break him.

It was, of course, miserably cold, and he was only wearing a pair of pants that had so many patches and tears it seemed to consist of that alone. His back stung from the bloody stripes on his back, given by Shrike's belt. Beneath that was the duller pain of dark bruising from the rest of the beating. His split lip throbbed painfully, and he carefully ran his tongue over it, wincing at the stinging pain that resulted. The hidden smuggler hold, normally full of illegal merchandise but currently empty, was also too dark for him to check his injuries visually.

Dewlanna would hopefully be able to help him with that. He hated it when Dewlanna intervened between Shrike and him – as she often did – but there was little he could do to convince the Wookiee to stop, and he knew that Shrike didn't care if she gave him medical treatment. Thankfully Dewlanna had not been here for this. 

Wookiees were extremely brave, honorable creatures, and she had decided to take Han under her protection, no matter the cost. And there was a cost – Dewlanna owed Shrike a debt of some kind, though exactly what he didn't know. And Shrike only tolerated her morals to a certain extent. Han feared her bravery and recklessness – her affection for him – would one day lead to her death. He hoped that he wouldn't be the cause of it.

What Han had done to receive the beating wasn't so horrible, anyway. Shrike just hated to be crossed, especially by a stupid ten year old human boy. And it was definitely stupid, Han admitted mentally. Shrike had other children, like Han, aboard his ship. He used them for various schemes that a child could get away with and an adult couldn't. One of those ways was having the children go on the streets and beg for money; it was a steady, if small, income that Shrike could depend on. Trying to hide part of the take of such an expedition hadn't been wise. 

Han should have known better. Han Solo was a survivor, and stupidity was a number one killer. Shrike had gotten the better of him, and would probably continue to do so for some time. But Han knew he was tough enough to take it, and he would learn from it.

Break him? It would never happen.

Han pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to conserve what little heat his body was generating. He gritted his teeth to keep them from chattering, but nothing could stop the constant shiver that racked his body.

Breathing deeply, Han forced away his fear that he would be left here to die, to freeze or starve, whichever came first. Had Shrike wanted him dead, he would have simply beaten him to death, and that would have been the end of it. He was certainly drunk enough on Corellian ale at the time – not that he would care if he were sober, other than the fact that he would lose a valuable, burgeoning scam artist and thief. He was good at what he did, especially for a child, and children could be valuable in this business, since no one suspected them. He could give a wide-eyed innocent look with his warm brown eyes and scruffy, thin appearance better than any of the other kids Shrike had. He'd live.

In fact, Han decided, determination tightening his young face, he would live just to spite the guy. He curled his wiry body up tighter, ignoring the pain of his ribs. He would live, he would learn. And he would become greater than Shrike, would be become a better man than him. Bigger and better than what scum like Shrike could even dream.

He would become a legend.

The End.


End file.
